To Play a Game
by ElephantsMemory
Summary: Being a trouble magnet, of course Reid would be the one to be kidnapped by a serial killer, well known for having never been caught. As time slowly runs out, Reid wonders if he'll ever be saved.
1. Induction

**Hi everyone!**

 **I'm trying out a new story - but I just wanted to release this snippet to see if anyone would be interested in it? I know it sounds very generic right now, but I would still like to know if it would be worth reading.**

 **Review please! Thank you.**

There was blood, and there was pain. His wrists burned as the fabric pulled at his thin, delicate skin. His eyes flickered around the room, but he saw nothing. It was dark, all too dark - and he was not a fan of the dark. Countless bullying experiences during his childhood made sure he would be terrified of the night for life, no amount of therapy could help. No systematic desensitisation or flooding could help him recover from his fear.

The dark surrounded him, as did the rope surrounded his wrists and ankles. The sticky, durable duct tape stopped him from letting out a sob that made it's way up his throat. His nose twitched as he smelt something truly foul.

Footsteps. Footsteps made their way down the stairs - where were the stairs? He was unsure. A sound of something switching. A light came on. Finally. He squinted at the sudden change in brightness and his lashes fluttered as he adjusted. He was sat on a chair, his limbs bound and his sounds silenced by a piece of tape. Someone came into his view; a man? Possibly a man. The frame of the individual was broad, too broad to belong to a female and there were lack of certain assets. Muscles showed the true sex of the person: definitely a male. He could only be unsure of the sex at first because the individual was wearing a mask - a clown mask of all things. Coloured vibrantly, the mouth turned down in a frown and the face as pale as anything.

Clowns, another one of his childhood fears. A monotonous, deep voice shook him out of his thoughts.

"Well, Dr. Reid. Let the games begin. I'm going to have a lot of fun with you."

Reid desperately wanted the lights to be back off. The clown took out a sharp butcher's knife out of his pocket and advanced to Reid. Reid would never get the image out of his mind and, for once, he wanted the lights back off.

The clown advanced towards him, a menacing smile on his face. The red mouth painted on the mask contrasting with his pale, smirking lips.

Reid squeezed his eyes shut. There was a menacing laugh, a moment of silence - and then, white hot pain. There was blood trickling down his leg, and there was so _so_ much pain.

How did he end up here?


	2. Chapter 1

**I should warn you all that I am now incredibly busy with my university work! Updates will be quite slow, I have no structure on when I will be able to update so it will be difficult? So sorry. I may start an answering system on this story too, if anyone posts any questions in the reviews!**

 **I almost forgot - disclaimer! I don't own Criminal Minds, or anything affiliated with it. I do, however, own this plot.**

 ** _1 Day Earlier…_**

 _"_ I really hate paperwork day" Morgan groaned as he threw himself onto his chair, taking off his hat once he had settled down.

"Aren't you grateful? It means we don't have a case" Prentiss raised an eyebrow and tilted her head to the side, "no murders or anything like that. It sounds like a win to me." As she said this she slipped a case file into Reid's desk, subtly, so that the young genius would not realise what she had done. He was too immersed in his writings anyway.

"I mean obviously I'm glad there's no case, I just hate paperwork more than I do kicking down doors and arresting sick sons of bitches. Besides—"

JJ, chose this exact moment to walk through the bull pen, catching the attention of every person working there - except from Spencer Reid, resident genius who was long gone in case file after case file. "We have a case," her expression was exceptionally grim and she reserved this look for the worst of cases, so Prentiss and Morgan knew that this could not be good.

Morgan quickly stood up and passed Prentiss who had raised an eyebrow and murmured something about speaking too soon, shaking Reid on his way to the conference room to jostle him out of his mind so he would know what was going on. "Kid, come on. Case time."

Reid quickly stood up and closed the file he had just finished, following Prentiss and Morgan to the room where Rossi, JJ, Hotch and Garcia were waiting for them.

"Mia Fox, 33. Found hanging out of a dumpster in an alleyway. Her cause of death was a stab wound to the heart, but there are sings of brutal torture all over her. Various lacerations in her legs, arms and stomach. Pictures on your tablets because there is no way I'm looking at those images again. Not only this - fingers and toes were removed and she suffered many burn marks of the third degree scale. She went missing on Thursday night last week, last seen at Bella Italia and was found earlier on yesterday morning. He therefore keeps them for six days." The team knew this couldn't be it - Garcia hated cases, but her expression was particularly grim this morning. The images were horrible after all, enough to make even Morgan silent and somber, but even Garcia normally kept up an air of cheeriness.

The whole team looked at the screen in shock - it was still hard even now to believe that humans could go through so much and others could make them go through such extensive torture. They almost couldn't believe it.

"Is that all? Please tell me there are no other victims," Rossi asked the question the rest of the team were afraid to ask. They hadn't touched the case file, too afraid to see more; their eyes were trained on Mia Fox's autopsy photos. They quickly looked at Garcia and her face said it all. Reid was looking just as sick.

"Uh, you guys will soon remember this case once I relay it to you. There was another victim a year ago in the same area - Will Hart died of one stab wound to the heart and he suffered signs of torture alike to Mia Fox's. The methods were identical actually. And a year before that, there was the case of Georgia Frank who suffered the same exact fate…and" Garcia paused in shock, how had this never been reported to them? "Exactly a year before Georgia there was John Williamson. Uh, so it went male, female, male, female. Next is predicted to be a male unless he goes off pattern." All the photos popped up onto the screen. "All caucasian, brown eyes and brown hair. Had jobs that put them higher up in authority - Fox was a lawyer, Hart was a detective, Frank was a top nurse and Williamson was training to be a FBI agent, having worked in the police station beforehand."

"I know this man, I'm incredibly shocked that the police have just come to us, you know, but I have been attempting to work at this case on the side for years. Uh, it hasn't worked obviously - this unsub is notoriously clean. No marks ever, no traceable clues or evidence. He's basically off the grid. But some of the methods he used are alike to those featured in Saw - people are kidnapped and held hostage while being forced to partake in various acts that lead to harm to their bodies. It would be enough to harm them, but not kill them but one act always finished them off. The UnSub may find sexual release in seeing his victims suffer but as they become weaker he may feel most pleasure as they are normally stronger due to their positions in work." Reid glanced at his case file ever so quickly - "I am unsure as to why he always kills them so quickly, or at all. But he wanted to see them suffer so a quick release is slightly out of place in his MO."

"Well…" Garcia sighed every so quickly and clicked the remote once more, effectively closing down the programme. "The lovely land of Vegas is where you will be heading though, because another person who fits the victimology has been taken…Lucas Kelly. The UnSub is devolving - he has taken another one a whole year before he was meant to, so something has triggered him into some sort of rage."

Hotch stared at the screen before he nodded his head ever so slowly - "wheels up in twenty".

 **\- CM -**

That night as everyone settled into the police station's conference room they had provided for them, the team stared at the current board that was empty of much evidence minus the photos of the victims. They were exhausted already - they had met with several members of the police station, had tried to keep quiet when they met the sheriff - they were so angry at the delay in a call - and had discussed all they could. Tomorrow they would be meeting with all of the victim's families and friends to see if any similarities could be drawn.

Reid was uncharacteristically quiet - but the team knew why - the resident genius hated returning to his home town. Especially when there was a case. He had long since gotten over the fact that some of the crimes would happen in the place he once lived in, but that didn't mean he liked it. What the team didn't know was that he was also on edge because he looked like the victims, and was similar to them in job description. He was so on edge even though logically he knew he would never be a victim, it was unlikely.

Aaron Hotchner looked around the room at his teammates who were so obviously tired - and then he looked at the clock and saw that it was just past one AM. "Guys, let's head back to the hotel. We will be no use when we are so tired and our brains aren't working properly. We will need to be in best shape to meet with friends and family tomorrow." Begrudgingly the team members agreed and packed away everything, ready to go to sleep for the night.

"Uh, I'm going to catch you guys up, okay? I think I may have noticed something but I could be wrong." Reid nodded his head, he looked as exhausted as the rest of the team but they knew arguing was futile. They all left one by one, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Reid stood up and looked at the empty map with his pile of different coloured arrow post-it notes. The pink ones were slowly pushed onto the dump site areas, the yellow ones onto the sites of where they were last seen. He raised an eyebrow and sipped at his over sugared coffee, his yawns becoming more and more frequent the more he stared at it. He held a marker pen in his hand and slowly drew a circle onto the map, before rubbing it out quickly - no, that wasn't right. He was almost there, but not quite, not yet. Funny - they had all been to a restaurant before they had disappeared. The only whereabouts connection thus far. He needed to find his comfort zone within the abduction and dump zones. But where was it?

He sat on the sofa - this proving to be a big mistake. He soon fell asleep, his eyelids fluttering against his cheeks.

 **THAT'S IT FOR NOW! This story isn't set in past seasons of criminal minds - just my favourite team from Criminal Minds.**

 **Uhh, this was just the introductory chapter to the case. It's not going to be easy on the team, or poor Reid.**

 **Next chapter - is where I will really start to delve into the story and torture time.**

 **Thanks for reading and being patient!**


	3. Chapter 2

_**Present Day**_

The man stared at his computer and let out a quiet chuckle, placing his hands into two dark blue gloves as he slowly stood up. "It's time," he muttered gleefully to himself, his eyes darting around the grime infested room.

"You're mine," he slid a thumb across the computer screen, halting at the cheek of a Spencer Reid, who was currently fast asleep on the small sofa of the conference room. Just his type, just what he wanted. Just _who_ he wanted.

He grabbed his small briefcase and left his apartment, chuckling to himself as he locked it behind him.

 **CM -**

"Has anyone seen Reid?" Morgan asked as he sat down at the booth.

In the hotel there was a large dining area, and Morgan had to thank the chief for branching out on budgets – finally, good breakfasts accompanied his morning instead of police station coffee that tasted suspiciously of cardboard and sugar.

"No, actually, but he's probably asleep at the police station. You know him – he asked us to leave him behind last night because he was hoping for some sort of breakthrough. He's probably still there." JJ worried her bottom lip with her teeth because whilst she tried to act nonchalant when it came to the youngest member's sleeping habits, he was like a little brother to her and she cared deeply for him. These worries heightened in the past few years, especially with all that had happened to the young man.

"He really needs to stop doing that. If he continues to stay in late he'll be no help in the day when we actually need him – I don't need him falling asleep when we're trying to deliver profiles and actually try to catch the UnSub." As Unit Chief, Hotch did have to be a bit of a 'drill sergeant' (in Derek Morgan's words) sometimes – and while he too cared for Reid, he did occasionally resent the young man for forgetting the rules of the job and putting his 'breakthroughs' before his needed sleep.

The team made haste in eating their breakfast, making coffees to go and packing up their needed work for the day. They could not delay in finding more evidence – the UnSub was delvoling as they remembered, and who knew when the next victim would be taken.

 **CM -**

Reid stared at the retreating form of his captor. He willed himself to remember what had brought him here – he decided to focus on the events leading up to this moment, instead of the blood wetting his pants and the dull, throbbing ache in his leg.

In flashes, he remembered instances of his capture – he had been asleep, he knew that. But in the security of the police station – so how had this happened? He remembered something – no, someone, shaking him awake before pushing something against his face. A gag? Probably a gag. How had nobody seen this man enter the room? How could nobody see. He vaguely remembered the blinds being drawn and the door being shut – so that explains the lack of security coming in to arrest the man. He cursed the fact that he weighed as little as he did, because the way the man threw him over his shoulder was as if he weighed even less than a sack of potatoes. He couldn't have fought anyway – for some reason, his body felt heavy. He couldn't move a muscle.

"Ketamine," he murmured quietly to himself. And after that – nothing. Nothing at all. He woke up here in a dark room, feeling everything like pain and hurt. He let out a soft gasp as he remembered the pain in his leg, and struggled against the restrictive fabric around his wrists again. The pain, of course became too much and soon he was passed out – his head lolling to the side as his body gave up.

The man watching him behind the screen let out a soft groan as he shook his head. He thought this agent would be able to hold out quicker. Maybe it was just the effects of the drugs wearing off and the pain for the moment. He'd get stronger, the man would make sure of that. He tapped his fingers against the desktop in a drumming notion as he tilted his head to the side. He needed more of a reaction from this FBI agent, this hotshot. He would be his biggest conquest yet. He was important. He meant everything.

And when he watched these tapes back later, well. He hoped there would be more to quench his fantasies than just the young man sleeping. He picked up his keys and hummed out a low tune. He did of course have a paying job to return to outside of his hobbies.

 **CM -**

"What do you mean he's not there with you? Where is Boy Wonder then? You can't have lost him, he's only just really fully recovered. Surely he's just –"

"Garcia calm down, I'm sure he's fine. Maybe he really just did retreat to the hotel, or maybe he's out looking for evidence with the police. There's a hundred things that could be going on, and yes of course we will worry. But right now we need to focus on Lucas Kelly. We need to find him, okay? Then we focus on Reid, we have a job to do." Prentiss hummed quietly and tilted her head to the side. Trying to calm Garcia was an impossible task but she was needed in this investigation for her computer skills and ability to track down anyone who so much as sniffed in Las Vegas.

Morgan was of course in the security camera department looking at footage with the security guards. Morgan would not rest, or relax, until he knew exactly where his little brother was. He would finish this case, but he needed to know where Reid was first.

"Okay, so, 1:23 AM, there he is fast asleep on the sofa, right?" Graham Jones grumbled as he stared at the screen. "And…1:49 he's gone? But there's nothing inbetween. Someone must've hacked in or something, made the same picture stay up or relay the same image or something. That's really strange, I don't know how this happened."

Morgan let out a frustrated groan and kicked at the leg of the table. "What the hell? What happened? What kind of sick son of a b—wait a minute. He's an FBI agent. Has brown hair, he's caucas – oh my god." And in a flash Morgan was out of the room and running back to the conference room to find Hotch. But when he got there, all he could see was one police officer who looked at him solemnly.

"They've found a body."


End file.
